i'll carry you home, tonight
by finchely
Summary: f/r, au college 'verse: it's time finn gives rachel a pep talk.


a/n: so yeah, basically I've been hiding under this shell and have been too scared to publish anything for _forever_. deepest apologies! also, I'm pretty rusty so bear with my mistakes. any who, this is just a short drabble in which finn uses his words to well, piece rachel back together. set in their late freshman year in college, in which they are both attending school in new york. wrote this in the deep depths of the night so any spelling/grammatical errors are mine entirely. hope you like it :)

…

He didn't think it'd ever come to this.

The rush of soft summer-sweet wind bristling over the tips of their toes as they lay side-by-side on a picnic blanket in Central Park, his hand encompassing hers. It's one of the nights they're both free of any work and homework load, and Finn suggests they take a stroll to their neighborhood park. The cool air has a certain affect on his brain, and it calms him as he holds Rachel tight. He wants to capture this moment in a bottle forever, keep it in a place somewhere only they know. He knows he can't though. The way her hand, her height, her body, fits perfectly in his; it's too good to be true.

"Do you think I'll ever make it?" he hears her voice whisper softly, her breath tingling his skin.

Make it. As in make it to Broadway, cuz how is that even a _question_- "to Broadway?" the question channels puzzlement. She's never questioned her talent or her anything before.

"Yes, Finn. To the woes of the big stage," her voice is downcast though, and the prospect worries him.

"What do you mean? Of course you will Rach. Hell, you've already, you've already auditioned for that one play and I know next week you'll be auditioning for the other one at the community college and—"

"I know _that_ Finn but what if I'm not meant to, to perform in front of people? I mean at my speech and debate class the other day I froze up and I couldn't move and it was just the most horrendous sight ever and maybe theatricality isn't my forte. Should I just cancel the audition tomorrow? I think that's what I'll do. I'm gonna call them up tonight and tell them I'm not eligible to drink or something and that I've been forging my age this whole time thus my chances of being accepted as a cast mate would be depleted down to literally subzero. Or I could possibly—"

"Rach."

"—I could tell them that I've been infected with some sort of viral malaria—"

"Rach."

"—or would that be a little too unbelievable? I mean if they'd open their minds up to the world of possibilities it would be a wonderful factor to avoiding auditions—"

"RACH!" his hand thuds the grass below and his voice comes out a little strangled as it echoes around the park. He doesn't mean to raise his voice.

"Rach," he says softer this time, lifting a tuft of hair away from her face.

"Do you hear yourself right now? You sound, you sound like…crazy. Crazier than Kurt when he talks about his jazzercise session with Blaine at the dinner table. Rachel I don't, do you not, do you not get it?"

Her eyes are questioning as his bore into hers, and he can't help from falling into her eyes, her dreamy eyes, forever, if it weren't for the fact that they sported extreme concern. Rachel was questioning her talent. That never, under any circumstances, ever, _ever_, happened.

There's a still silence between them again and the noise of the city reverberates in the cool midnight breeze. He thinks she's not gonna answer his question when she remains silent for an extra minute, but when she finally speaks up, he's relieved.

"Have I ever told you about what Quinn told me when you guys used to be together?" she glances down like she's afraid. He touches her shoulder.

"Wha- I, no, I don't remember you telling me anything," he says hesitantly while stroking her shoulder, signaling her to continue.

"It was before nationals, when the glee club was creating original songs. Quinn and I collaborated on a song, remember?"

He nods his head because yes, he does remember when he saw Quinn and Rachel walked out to the auditorium while the glee club rehearsed in the choir room. He remembers being happy that Quinn was reaching a hand out to Rachel; maybe he was even a little proud for the blonde. It's not clear in his mind though, and shakes his head from the thought. That was so _long_ ago.

"I was so excited that someone in the glee club, another girl to be exact, was actually reaching out to become better acquaintances with me. And the fact that Quinn, the prettiest girl in the school—" he stops her there and gives her a kiss because no, she couldn't believe that. He wouldn't let her believe those vitriol lies because her brown luscious hair and chocolate eyes and honey skin made her the most beautiful girl on the entire face of the planet. He couldn't be the only one who saw that.

She continues though as she licks her lips. "But it turns out that Quinn didn't have pure intentions after all." His nose scrunches at that, and he can tell Rachel can sense his confusion.

"She told me that I would never be with you, Finn. She told me that after you left college, you'd take over Burt's tire shop, and she'd become a local real estate agent, and you two would reside in a lovely abode in the Lima suburbs with your children. She told me that I was too good for you and she was doing me a favor by taking you from me. That we were never meant to be together." She sniffles and in no time she's sobbing into his chest. He pulls her close, rubbing circles on the small of her back while processing the words she just spoke.

"It's kind of true, you know."

She gasps as he realized how _wrong_ that came out.

"I mean, I meant, the last part. The part about you being too good for me. You've always been too good for me. I don't know why you stayed, it's not like I reaped you any benefits," he says voice cast downward, the truth in his words so relevant.

She lets out a gasp of protest but he get to his words before she can. "See, I always wondered why you stayed with me, Rach. You could've done so much better. You could've gone away after high school and pursued some rich Broadway dude and I'm sure he'd be begging on his knees for you. Truth is Rach, you saved me. You saved me from being trapped and suffocated under Quinn's hold and I can't thank you enough for that. I just- there's so much to thank you for. Thank you for being perfect, thank you for loving me, thank you for—" but this time it's her that kisses him midsentence.

The kiss is soft but passionate, and he reaches one of his hands to meet her finger tips that's sprawled on the blanket.

They're both breathing hard as he says, "We're tethered, Rach. Nothing can ever separate us."

"Nothing?"

"Not a single thing."

He sees her smile with her eyes before she swoops up to give him a kiss, and he knows that this time, he's said his words right.


End file.
